Potter and Prejudice
by lianghwei
Summary: POST-WAR LAST YEAR: The Bennets are excited that Ronald Weasley, Number Two from Witch Weekly's Top 30 Most Eligible Bachelors, is coming to Merryton. What would happen, however, if he was also accompanied by Number One?
1. Chapter 1

**Potter and Prejudice**

* * *

**Chapter One**

_The Bennets, and Harry's being Difficult._

* * *

There are many universal truths in the world. For example, leaves are green because they have chlorophyll. The planet Venus is considerably hotter than Mercury, because Mercury has almost no atmosphere. The occurrence of the moon blocking out the sun is called a solar eclipse. Puberty is always awkward and/or painful. My mother is a deranged psychopath with no life.

However, out of all these wonderfully accessible, and very true truths, my mother has decided to pick Witch Weekly's headline for their annual "Top 30 Most Eligible Bachelors" list.

_"It is a universal truth that every wealthy young wizard must be in want of a wife!"_

I mean, I understand how having 4 daughters can have an effect on your mental health. That's the reason why my father spends most of his time in his private study where no one, not even my mother, is allowed in. That's also the reason why his two oldest daughters strive to be as sane as possible. But that is still no reason why my mother should be allowed to force us into her insane cause to marry us all off as soon as possible. I mean, her "universal truth" isn't even that true!

My name is Eliza Bennet. I am 17 this year, and I definitely don't need a boyfriend, let alone a husband. Don't get me wrong, I've dated before, and had some alright relationships with some okay guys. I just don't share my mother's never-ending fear of her daughters ending up total spinsters by the time we're her age. Considering the fact that her oldest, Jane, is only 18, I don't see the rationale in it.

She has been on this insane craze, repeating this line from the introductory article in Witch Weekly's Top 30 most eligible Bachelors list like its some sort of bible verse, and nagging and fretting about how all four of her daughters are single. It would have ended, like most of her moods, peacefully and abruptly after a week, had it not been for that stupid Weasley.

It started when Mrs Lucas came over for our tutoring session.

I should probably explain first, however, the story behind my family. The Bennets.

My mother's maiden name was Nott. She was born in a different world from my father, who was from a long line of Bennets, who were all muggles, and passing down through the line the family business - a book publishing company named Bennet and Sons. The sad thing about my father's family, however, is that he has no sons, just us four girls, Jane, Lydia, Kitty, and me, Eliza. What my mother didn't tell my father until after Jane was born, was that she was born of magical blood, though she had no magic herself, being born a Squib. I can't imagine how she managed to convince my father that a wizarding world existed in the first place, considering he is the most factual, by-the-book man ever. But if he didn't believe my mother then, he could have changed his mind the day I turned four, as he watched me levitate all my birthday presents out of the attic and into my open, gleeful hands. And if he didn't believe her even then, he definitely did a year later, when three-year-old Lydia disappeared from her crib, only to be found happily sleeping on the roof.

Four daughters; two muggles, two witches.

Here's where the problem lies. When I got my first Hogwarts letter, my mother had been hysterical and refused to let me go. She had never been to Hogwarts, after all, and abhorred the idea of letting Lydia and I run off to some castle in the middle of nowhere to learn from people she didn't know. I had some idea that perhaps she had been treated badly by her family for being a Squib, which would explain why we've never met any of her family. It would also explain her hysteria as serious abandonment issues.

After months of fighting (my birthday's in April), and frequent visits from a very stern looking Scottish lady from Hogwarts, the worst happened. My mother, in the middle of one of our shouting matches, suddenly collapsed in pain. She was rushed to St. Mungo's where her heart attack was thankfully stabilized with the help of magic. She was home within the week, and The Bennets never spoke of Hogwarts since.

So instead of being sent to boarding school, Lydia and I are home-schooled i magic by our neighbor, Mrs Lucas, and go to regular Muggle school in the day with Jane and Kitty. Her daughter Charlotte, who is 23 and graduated from Hogwarts ages ago, recently started to help out after quitting her job at the ministry. When I asked her why, she just said it was way too complicated. Bugger if I understood what that meant. But aside from the occasional cryptic comments, being tutored by her is the best. She's the one who tells me amazing stories about Hogwarts - about ghosts wandering about the school, ceilings that show the night sky, and teachers who can turn into cats! I had hoped that one day I'd be able to finally go to Hogwarts, to spend a year as a real student in the magical place. Now that I've reached my final year, and complete my NEWTS in a year's time, my hopes are pretty dismal.

Since summer has started, and regular school is out, Mrs. Lucas comes by in the morning with Charlotte to have breakfast with us, and tutors us for the rest of the day. It was one such breakfast that Mrs. Lucas decided to ruin everything for us.

"Have you heard the big news, Mabel?" she says, while tentatively tasting her coffee. "Weasley's coming to town!"

"Weasley? Which Weasley? Not THE Weasley, surely?"

Mrs. Lucas gives a wry smile, and sips her cup, before, leaning towards my mother and goes: "THE Weasley." She looks about, as if anyone else would be eavesdropping, yet speaks audibly enough for the whole table to hear.

"He's coming down to have a look at Richmond Hall."

"Oh My Goodness!" My mother shrieks, before turning towards my father, who is happily trying to ignore the whole charade. "Kevin, isn't it wonderful! Weasley!"

"You do have to excuse me, my dear," said my father, nonchalantly. "I have no idea who this Weasley is, and unless you enlighten me, I won't find it any more wonderful than the soggy waffle on my plate."

"Oh Kevin, don't!" my mother says, rolling her eyes, and fishing out from god knows where, Witch Weekly's Top 30 Most Eligible Bachelors' List. At which point, we all groan audibly. My mother, as usual, doesn't hear, but ruffles through the worn pages (interestingly, only a week old), and finally comes to Mr. Number Two, which she turns and shows us proudly.

"Number Two, Ronald Weasley! He's one of the Golden Trio, Kevin, the ones who helped destroy You-Know-Who and ended the war! According to Witch Weekly, he released a dragon from Gringotts, and personally fought some of You-Know-Who's Inner Circle!"

"Well, in that case," my father says, emotions unchanging, "He has my upmost respect."

"Respect? RESPECT?" My mother shrieks again. This time, I actually catch my father cringe for a split-second. "My dear, you shouldn't give him your respect, you should be giving him one of your daughters! Think about it, he's newly rich, single, and FAMOUS."

"My dear, as lovely as our daughters are, I doubt they'll make very appropriate welcome gifts."

"Oh, Kevin, really!" my mother huffs, and sticks a fork quite violently into her eggs. "I don't understand you sometimes. I mean, here is a perfectly good opportunity to ensure a great future for one of our daughters, and all you do is make jokes. Really!"

"You know I love you dear." My father says, monotonously. During this entire conversation, his eyes never left his newspaper. Sometimes, I'm amazed at the way he deals with my mother's tantrums. I sneak him a smile across the table, and he glances up at me and winks, unseen by my oblivious mother, who had given up on chastising him and was now busy interrogating Mrs. Lucas for more information.

"I heard from Mr. Nicholas from Hotel Merryton, ," Mrs Lucas said, "that he's booked a suite, and that he'll be arriving next Friday! He doesn't own Richmond yet, of course, so the secret owner of Richmond Hall is still pretty much a secret to us. But I bet when he arrives, he could tell us who this mysterious owner is!"

"Oh, definitely!" my mother squealed excitedly, along with Lydia and Kitty. Even Jane looked excited, and turned to me and said:

"Isn't it cool, Eliza?"

It was. Richmond Hall has always been a mystery to us in Merryton. The current owners apparently have not lived there for a long time, yet it was never sold. We've known that it must be owned by a magical family, since the hedges have never grown out of shape, and the state of the house has always been immaculate. My mother, however, has it in her head that it must be owned by one of the Ancient and Noble Families.

"After all," she had said, "_who else would leave a decently-sized house to rot_?"

* * *

"Come on Harry," Ron said, throwing himself into his dining room chair. "I've already booked the suite, Ginny and Hermione are coming as well. No harm in it!"

I slid into the chair next to him, and levitated some glasses out of the cupboard. Ron got to work levitating the butterbeers out from the fridge.

"I told you, I'm not interested."

"But it's your house!" he moaned. "What's the point of us going if you don't want to go?"

"Because it's going to be yours?" Harry said, sipping the cool drink, and letting the sweet, toffee flavor slip down his throat.

"Yeah, and its great that you've given us the place as a summer house and all, but it belongs to your family! I mean after finding out that you own all these random properties, don't you want to at least check it out?"

Harry looked down into his drink. Ron had a point. He had initially been curious when he was told on his last trip to Gringotts that upon turning 17, he had effectively inherited many properties from his parents. He had not been notified, however, due to the war and his being in hiding for most of his seventeenth year. But now that peace has been restored, and he had the time to go through his family affairs, he realized that the Ancient and Noble house of Potter was **VERY** well off. Too well off, in fact, that he had no idea how to handle all these properties. The one in Merryton, for example, was last visited 80 years ago by his great-grandparents, and they only spent a day there to check up on the state of the house, and recast wards and self-maintenance spells. He was more than happy to give it to the Weasley family, who were still in the middle of rebuilding the Burrow, and was currently staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry. He himself was looking for an adequately sized apartment. There was no way he was going to live in a huge mansion by himself.

Now, however, he found himself a little frightened to go to the house in Merryton. He had no knowledge of his family history at all, and being completely immersed in it seemed terrifying, to say the least. What if his family had bad taste?

He vocalized that to Ron, who almost choked on his butterbeer.

"That's why you don't want to go to Merryton?" he asked, wide-eyed. "Because you're afraid that your ancestors have bad taste?"

Harry shrugged, then immediately regretted ever speaking.

"Harry, this house is ancient! It's going to be musty, old, and outdated! I doubt it matters that your ancestors have bad taste anyway, if we're going to renovate it. Might as well check it out before we decide to do anything."

Harry shrugged again, and downed the rest of his butterbeer, smacking his lips.

"I'm just… not comfortable yet, mate," he said, tentatively. Then waited to hear the words he knew Ron was going to say anyway.

"If you're not going, I'm not taking it."

Harry rolled his eyes, and glared and Ron, who was eagerly waiting for Harry's reply, pink-eared. He huffed, defeated.

"Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Potter and Prejudice**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

****_First Encounters, and that thing Ron did._

* * *

"But it's a UNIVERSAL TRUTH that…"

"RIIIIIING."

Only my mother. Only MY mother can beat my alarm clock to waking me up in the most horrendous manner possible, rendering the poor alarm clock, which was built for this _very _purpose, obsolete.

What a wonderful start to a Friday morning.

Opening my eyes somehow made the sound of her voice more shrill than usual, and it made me hesitate wanted to get out of bed at all. It definitely didn't help seeing Jane, whom I share a room with, still sleeping like a log through all this mayhem.

My sister's an interesting creature.

Don't get me wrong, she is my favourite person in the world, aside from my dad. We've been best friends since we were born, and she has the sweetest temperament you'd ever expect from an 18-year-old teenager. Sharing a room for most of our lives, however, you realize certain things about her.

For one, she can sleep through most anything.

That is a tried and tested hypothesis too. I went through a nocturnal phase once, and blasted music in my room till 5 in the morning, and even the music I blasted had to compete with her snoring.

She also eats. A lot. You don't see the food disappear when she eats, though, since she has the most impeccable lady-like table manners. Like she eats with a single fork, in squirrel sized bites. Yet she can polish off two mega pizzas and a full set of chips by herself, and still have space for more. And, thanks to the unfairness of fate, it doesn't show anywhere. She is as thin and as flimsy as a twig, and looks as sweet as a little baby doll.

And speaking about thin and flimsy, here's the weirdest thing out of all of them. Jane Bennet, the sweetest, kindest, most unassuming girl in Merryton, is as _strong as an ox_. She was the star of Merryton Elementary's wrestling team, until it became too unladylike to wrestle, and then secretly took up Tae Kwondo behind my mother's back, and throws grown men around for fun. No joke.

If any witch dared to take on Jane on the notion that she's just a weak muggle, I'd seriously pity them.

"OF ALL THE HORRIBLE…"

It is one of my greatest desires that I'll never inherit my mother's voice in old age. Hopefully, the honour would go to Lydia, who's character resembles mother's so much, that you can totally see mother at age 15 going around snogging every guy in sight. Its no wonder Lydia's her favourite. Not that I'm complaining. I pulled my covers over my head in hope that it would muffle the sound just a little. Sadly, it doesn't.

"This is your daughters' futures we're dealing with, Kevin!" my mother screeches. "Don't you care at all?"

"Of course I do, dear."

"You don't seem like you do! I mean, all you have to do is go down to Richmond, knock on the door, and introduce yourself, and invite Weasley to lunch here! How hard can that be?"

"Not hard at all."

"So why won't you do it!"

"I never said I wouldn't, my dear. I just don't see the plausibility of talking to a complete stranger this early in the day. Its just not done."

"Not done? Of course its not done if you haven't done anything!"

"Of course dear."

"Liz?"

I started, and peeked out of my covers. It was only Jane, miraculously awake. I could feel my alarm clock growing more ashamed by the minute.

"Morning, sleepyhead," I said. "Ready for the big day?"

"Big day?" she mumbled, as she rubbed her eyes, unglamorously crusty.

"Yeah, it's the day Weasley arrives at Merryton. Mother even cancelled classes with Mrs. Lucas so Lydia and I could go shopping with everyone. Parading the family out, and all that. She probably hopes we'd run into him."

"At least we get to shop," Jane said, giving a huge grin. "Don't be so negative, Liz."

I shrugged.

"You use the shower first. If I go, you'll go back to sleep and never wake up."

Normally, shopping would be pretty fun. Not, however, if its family shopping day. We looked a bit like a circus gone array, with mother yapping her mouth off to Lydia and Kitty. Lydia happily yaps back, but Kitty keeps quiet. She's a bit like Lydia's little puppy, though she's only a minute younger than Lydia. Its been like this since Lydia cast her first "Wingardium Leviosa". Kitty had grabbed her wand and did the same thing, but nothing happened. Now she hero worships her own twin. I've told Kitty to do her own thing, and leave Lydia be, but she's pretty insistent on staying by Lydia's side. So when mother and Lydia gets into one of their mother-daughter moments, Kitty just listens and nods.

Jane and I keep our distance further behind, and behind us is Father, typing on his Blackberry with his headsets on. He loves his technology. Part of the reason is because Mother hates them. But he looks a bit strange today, since we're in Boulanger Street, the wizarding shopping strip in Merryton, and wizards are dreadfully old-fashioned.

"So, what do you think Weasley's like?" I ask, mostly because I was bored to death.

"I'm sure he's nice. After all, he did help save the wizarding world."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure heroism translates to niceness."

"Name me one mean Hero."

I paused. But it wasn't because I couldn't think of a mean hero (then again, I couldn't), but because I had seen a tall man with shocking red hair enter the sweet shop.

Now I saw my chance to kill two birds with one stone. Get my parents to stop having loud fights in the morning, and to get the hell away from my mother for a while.

"Father," I called out. He took a while to hear me, through his headset.

"Yes, dear?"

"Don't you want to pick up some chocolate frogs? I'm sure Mr. Pickleton has a fresh batch brought in today."

I see a light flash in my father's eyes. As muggle as he is, he is a horribly addicted chocolate frogs card collector. As kids, he used to sneak us chocolate frogs at all hours of the day, so that he can get rid of the frogs and keep the cards. To this day, he has 2,731 different types of cards, and averages 200 of each of the normal, borings ones. The day he found Lord Arrata, he brought the whole family out for a fancy dinner. The day I bought one after school, and got Sir James Codaggen-Mimms the Seventy, he bought me a new broom. A Nimbus Two-Thousand-And-One to boot.

"Wonderful idea, Lizzie!" He said, and started across the road. I gave Jane a look. She had initially seemed surprised, then looked down at the trio of crazy women, squealing over a bonnet (who even wears bonnets anymore?).

"We'll go with you, Daddy!" Jane cried, pulling me after her as she crossed the road.

When we entered the shop, I couldn't help but grin. My plan had worked so perfectly, that I didn't even have to follow through on the fake introduction. With his blackberry still in his hand, and his headset dangling a centimeter from the floor, was my father engaged in a serious discussion with Ronald Weasley, Mr. Number Two, about Chocolate Frogs.

"I can't believe you have Sir James Codaggen-Mimms the Seventy," Mr. Number Two said, smiling so widely you'd think his freckles would disappear. "I've been trying to get him since I was five!"

"Well, I have my daughter Lizzie to thank for that! Oh, and speaking of which…"

Now, before you jump to any conclusions about the cheesiness of this situation. After my father goes "Here is the daughter I was talking about, and my other daughter, Jane", there is no love on first sight situation, where Weasley catches either my eye or Jane's eye, and when we shake hands, there was no electricity that we knew we were meant to be.

What happened instead, was the wonderful Mr. Number Two turns to look at us, and somehow manages to trip over a box right behind his feet, falls on a pile of boxes, and while flailing in midair, kicks my father in the chin.

My father doesn't fall, thank goodness, and instead stumbles onto the counter in pain. I immediately rush to help him up, and immediately see a huge cut on his chin and a split lip from the impact. Before he could say anything, I took out my wand and pointed it to his face.

"Episkey."

Immediately, the wound heals over and my father is now simply a man with a headache.

"Eliza…?"

I turned to looked. There, in all his glory, was Mr. Number Two, Ronald Weasley, sprawled on the floor, head propped up onto Jane's knee, passed out. Before I could stop myself, I blurt out:

"Mother's going to love this."

* * *

When Ron Weasley finally woke up, it had taken him a total of 3 minutes and 48 seconds to figure out where he was. While the room and the bed he was in seemed foreign (he eventually recognized the matching gold decor of Hotel Merryton, he was relieved that he knew everyone in the room – his sister Ginny, and his best friends, Hermione and Harry.

It had taken him a whole other minute to remember what had happened for him to end up in that bed.

"Is the man… okay?" he managed to groan out, before Hermione began attacking him with a particularly sour-tasting potion.

"His name is Kevin Bennet, and yes, he's fine," Ginny said. She then shared a small smirk with Harry and Hermione, before turning back to him and asking: "Aren't you going to ask about the girl?"

"The… girl?" he said. The moment those words escaped his lips, however, memories of a beautiful blonde girl, with the brightest blue eyes entered his mind. Unwillingly, his lips formed a wide smile.

"Jane."

Ginny let out a loud gasp, and flung her arms dramatically.

"Oh thank Merlin you know her name!" she said, her hand pressed against her forehead in a grand, fainting motion. "And I had thought you simply enjoyed lying on random girls' laps!"

Ron's smile suddenly faded, and he flushed brilliantly.

"Her… her lap?"

Harry chuckled. "She had you propped on her knee and everything, mate. At least, when _we _came into the candy shop."

Upon hearing this, Ron flushed even more. His head had begun spinning. Jane Benneth had propped him up on her lap? She had taken care of him? But he had kicked her father in the chin. He instantly covered his face with his hands at the mortifying thought.

"Oh Merlin, I kicked her father in the chin," he groaned. "She probably thinks I'm a complete idiot or something. Not to mention her father probably hates my guts…"

"Oh Ron, I'm sure its not true," Hermione cooed. Ron smiled at her. It was great that Hermione was so open to the idea of him being interested in someone else. They had dated openly for about a month or so, but it had been so awkward and strange that they had decided to just remain friends. She was too much like a sister to him, and him a brother to her, they agreed. A week after they agreed to break things off, she had begun dating Viktor Krum again, and for the first time, Ron was completely supportive. She looked so much more comfortable dating Viktor, and they looked more compatible.

Ginny, however, had not been so happy. She had been so set on the idea of a happily ever after situation where Hermione and Ron would end up together, and she and Harry would do the same, and they would all be one big happy family under the Weasley name. She had been devastated when he and Hermione had broken the news of their amicable break-up to everyone, especially when Harry had rejected every one of her advanced after the war. He had somehow become a changed person, more sullen and quiet than before. Ginny was convinced that it was a phase, that she simply needed to wait for him to recover, come to his senses, and return to her arms. After all, it was the war that had broken them up, and now that the war was over, it only made sense that they get back together, even marry.

Everyone knew that she thought that way. Even Harry.

Ginny pursed her lips as she watched Hermione encourage Ron to owl her, and got up to leave the room, running a hand across Harry's shoulder as she passed behind him. He didn't move or react, to her displeasure.

"You know, I was talking to some of the Boulanger Street shop keepers, and they were telling me that this Sunday is the annual Merryton Summer Dance, held down by the lake. Perhaps if we go, you'd see her there."

Ron grinned at Hermione. She was a genius.

"Maybe you'd even get to dance with her, Ron," Harry added in. To which Ron turned pale.

"D…d…dance?"

He and Harry immediately began thinking of their horrendous Yule Ball experience, and the angry Patil sisters. Ron looked up at Harry, and Harry jerked his head towards Hermione.

"Its all on you, 'mione," He said. Ron was also looking intently at Hermione, with large, pleading eyes. "You have to save him."

* * *

When I reached home, I immediately pulled Jane into our room, and bolted the door before mother began screeching again. I sat us down on her bed, and looked directly at her.

"Okay, you have to tell me _what is going on_," I said, holding her hands. Jane gave a sheepish smile, and looked down at our hands, moving her thumbs in circular motions on my palm. In my mind, I mentally slapped myself. Jane only did that movement right before she told me that she liked a guy.

"Ronald Weasley," I vocalized. Jane immediately flushes. "Mr. Number Two?"

There's a pause, during which I could hear my heart thumping. Then Jane looks up at me, and smiles. My brain spontaneously combusts.

"You're serious!" I exclaimed. Jane nodded vigourously. "The clumsy guy in the candy shop who kicked Father in the chin?"

"Oh, Liz, it was just an accident!" she cried, and grasped my hands tightly. I winced. Super-human strength plus exasperation equals instant bruising on my hands. She immediately let go, and squeezed the hem on her skirts, looking at me apologetically.

"There was just… something, you know?" she stuttered, her face flushing more, before giving a small, secret smile. To others, the smile would seem shy and reserved. But I've known Jane long enough, and this smile is probably the equivalent of Lydia bouncing up and down on her bed screaming her head off. I grinned, pulling her into a hug.

"THE GOLDEN TRIO, KEVIN."

And then it started. I rolled my eyes, and Jane immediately laughed. We both knew that it was impossible to continue talking, so we didn't try. Curse this house and its impossible acoustics.

"Yes, I saw them as well, dear. Wonderful bunch."

"Kevin, that's NOT THE POINT. Did you see Jane and Weasley? OH."

I felt Jane cringe next to me, and I leaned into her shoulder. Mother finding out about any of the guys we are interested or involved with is the most horrible situation that could happen in this house, and I could predict even then that this particular circumstance was going to last a lifetime.

"You have to go and meet him, Kevin! Invite him and the rest of the Golden Trio over for dinner!"

"I would love to, dear, but I don't think we're particularly well acquainted." I pursed my lips. Father hates having dinner guests that he doesn't know well. Mother, on the other hand, would invite all the eligible bachelors to dinner everyday if she could.

"But you must! Harry Potter was with him! HARRY POTTER."

There was a pause, which was probably the ruffling for Witch Weekly, and the flipping of pages, before:

"HE'S NUMBER ONE."

Of course he is.

When I thought back to the guy who had entered the shop, and upon seeing Weasley lying on Jane's lap, and my father's chin covered in blood, he had just stared, as if stunned. He had not done a thing, until his friends, who I assumed were Hermione Granger, the other third of the Golden Trio, and Weasley's sister, rushed down to try to revive Weasley. I snorted. Not really the reflexes you'd expect out of the savior of the Wizarding World.

"Imagine, Kevin, if he picks any of our other daughters! She'd be the WIFE OF THE CHOSEN ONE."

"I didn't realize it was daughter picking season."

"ARGH."

There was a slam of a door, trampling of the stairs, and then slamming of another door. And then, complete silence.

I turned back to Jane, who looked completely mortified. I wrap my arm around her, and pull her into a sideways hug.

"So, when are you going to see him again?" I teased. Jane shrugged, and turned to face me.

"I can't, Lizzie. He's Ronald Weasley! All the witches in town would be after him and that Harry Potter. He's even buying Richmond Hall, which means that all the girls in town, witches or no, would be after him!" She looked into her hands, dejectedly.

"Jane…" I said. "I'm sure you made a strong impression today. I mean, you were cradling his head! And I'm sure he tripped only after he saw you." I ended off with a teasing voice, nudging her a little.

"Lizzie!" she cried, covering her mouth with her hands. "That's impossible." I just gave her a smile. It was clear that she was head over heels for this guy, even if he was Mother's number two.

Suddenly, we heard someone call Jane's name from downstairs, followed by an owl's cry. We then heard, mother from within her room.

"AN OWL?"

I looked at Jane, who had turned a bright red, and was squeezing her dress so hard I thought she'd rip it. I quickly pulled her out our room, and down into the living room, where a brilliant white owl was perched on one of our dining chairs. On the dining table lay a large package. Father was holding a note, looking quite pleased. He looked up at Jane.

"This Ronald Weasley sent a note to apologize for the accident, along with a large box of Chocolate Frogs." He grinned widely, gesturing to the box on the table. "This," he said, passing a smaller note to Jane. "Is for you."

Jane flushed again, and opened the note. Mother was squealing in a corner, where Lydia and Kitty were watching Jane intently. After what seemed like forever, Jane looked up and smiled at me.

"He said that he looks forward to seeing me at the Summer Dance."

My mother screamed, and the entire house seemed to explode.

* * *

_(A/N): I just want to thank you guys for all the support I've received in such a short amount of time. _

_I've been sitting on this idea for awhile, but because I've been so busy with school I haven't had a chance to write anything for awhile. You could even say I'm a little rusty. So if there are any grammatical issues, please don't hesitate to tell me about them. In favor of simply putting up chapters as soon as possible, I would be less critical of them, so any feedback is appreciated, and I would address them once this story is over._

_In case you're a follower of any of my other stories, I don't think I'll be updating them anytime soon. I've hit a writers' block for some of them, and I simply don't have the time to update more than one story. This particular one would hopefully be done before the end of my summer break, which means I'll be updating pretty regularly. _

_Or at least, that is the plan. Till the next chapter, then!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_The Secret of Richmond Hall, and an Unexpected Guest._

* * *

The moment Harry stepped into Richmond Hall, he knew there was something different about it. There was a kind of electricity that crackled beneath his feet, as if eagerly waiting for his arrival. He had arrived earlier than the others, lying that he was going to take a walk before visiting Richmond with them. The truth was he wanted some time alone in the house, to see for himself what it was like. They all knew, and somehow he knew that they did. He swallowed, nervously clearing the lump in his throat, and unconsciously run his hand down the frame of the front door, a smooth, rich mahogany. And, shaking slightly, he pulled out his wand, and held it in the darkness before him.

_Lumos!_

The light that followed took him by surprise. It shot out from his wand, bigger and brighter than any Lumos he'd performed before, divided into many spherical lights, and seemed to distribute evenly, until the light spread further and further. Harry shielded his eyes, temporarily, until he'd adjusted to the brightness of the room, and looked.

He was standing in front of a grand entrance hall. The walls were a deep cream, the floors a rich, brown marble shining under the light of a great, spherical, chandelier, lit with billions of little dots of brilliant light that looked like they were dancing amongst a mass of many tears of clear crystal, hung on a ceiling two storeys high. And against the walls, fantastic tapestries of centaurs, and merfolk, and wizards, and muggles, bustling with life and energy in the richest colours, from ceiling to floor. In the middle of the room, a grand stairway, made of brown and white marble, with a carpet runner made of the richest red velvet cascading down the middle, across the hall, to the floor that he stood on.

He could hardly contain the sigh that has escaped his lips.

If he had known Richmond looked like this, he may have not have given it to Ron for his eighteenth birthday. It was, after all, a bit of an extravagant gift. Perhaps a new broom would have been more appropriate.

Oh well.

Cautiously, he called out, within the empty room, uncertain if there was a caretaker of some sort. The sound echoes against walls and seemed to go on forever - but no one came. Harry frowned. He was certain that someone would be there. Richmond had no sense of being abandoned for many decades. It frightened him a little that it looked so warm and inviting, yet empty.

He found himself threading lightly as he wandered down corridor after corridor, opening doors made of rich mahogany. He found exquisite pieces of furniture that looked brand new, beds in bedrooms that have never been slept in, fireplaces that have never been lit, and books on bookshelves that have never been read. It didn't seem like anyone or anything had lived there at all. There were no portraits or pictures hanging on the walls, expect that of generic landscapes. There were no cobwebs, no mouse holes, no insects creeping in from the garden. As he explored the halls, he found himself growing increasingly frustrated. Had none of his family visited this house at all? Was this all they left him to remember them by - empty, cold houses with spells to make it seem like home? Had they left him no clue of who they were?

In this big house, Harry felt more alone than he had ever felt in Privet Drive. As horrible as the Dursleys were, at least he knew them as family. A family that ill-treated him, but a family nonetheless. At least, he thought bitterly, they had bothered to make themselves known. In his knowledge of his father's family, he only held the memory of seeing them in the Mirror of Erised in his first year. Around the idea of family, Harry had a gaping big hole, that continued to ache for fulfillment.

It was then, that he remembered exactly why he wanted to give the house to Ron.

When he returned to the entrance hall to leave by the front door, however, he suddenly sensed a presence. Turning about, he whipped his wand out before him, and looked. There was no one there. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He looked about the room, hoping to see a House Elf, or a Housekeeper of sorts. He called out again, only to hear it echo in the empty house. He lowered his wand, bewildered.

It was then, that he noticed a smaller tapestry that was hung in the corner, hidden by the shadow of the great staircase. It looked out of place, by the huge and grand décor of the hall. In fact, it was the only thing in the entire house that Harry felt looked old and worn. He stepped closer, curious to get a closer look. It was a picture of an old man, sitting at a desk that looked like the one he had seen in the study upstairs, surrounded by towers of books. He was sleeping, propped up on his arms, looking very uncomfortable. Harry lit his wand, and stepped closer still.

"Grhskk… hmmm…?"

The man had woken up, and was blearily rubbing his eyes. He was bald, with flecks of white peppering the sides of his head, but a great moustache that all but covered his mouth, and ruffled madly as he woke. His eyes, a deep chocolate brown, squinted into the light.

"Are you daft, boy? That's no way to wake your elders, shining a light into their eyes!"

Harry immediately pulled his wand back. The man stretched his arms, and scratched the back of his head, before folding his arms in front of him on the desk.

"Now, how can I help you, son?" he said, his voice significantly deeper than before. Harry blinked. There was a strange familiarity about this man, that he couldn't put his finger on. He looked into his brown eyes, and watched them twinkle. Had he… met this man before?

"My name is Harry, Harry Potter," he offered. He swallowed, hard, as he saw the man's eyes light up immediately. The man had begun to smile. "I'm sorry sir, but do you know who I am?"

The man was grinning widely. "Harry Potter you say," he said grandly. "My, my, my." He ruffled his moustache excitedly.

"My boy, I hope you are who you say you are, though one look at you and I have no doubts whatsoever! Because you see…" he straightened up proudly. "I am Harry Potter as well."

* * *

"Harry? Are you there?" Hermione said, as she prodded his side. Harry, startled, broke out of his reverie, and stared blearily at her. She rolled her eyes. "There is a party going on, you know. The town is here. You should mingle."

Harry thinned his lips, but kept quiet. Hermione sighed. She hated it when Harry got into these moods. He wasn't a social person to begin with, but at least he knew how to hold himself in situations like these. Today, however, he was a million miles away. He had been like this since she and Ron found him at Richmond Hall, staring blankly at an empty tapestry. He had declined to mention anything about the house, but just insisting on leaving immediately. It was the most peculiar behavior, and now he was being dreadfully anti-social, even blowing off one of the Bennet sisters. To be completely honest, she felt slightly embarrassed for him.

She understood, of course, that visiting one of his family houses would put great stress on him. She had been with him the day they visited Godric's Hollow, after all, and he had declined visiting again after the war was over. He also had the most indifferent attitude towards the rest of his estate, as if he wanted to forget that the Potters ever existed. In fact, she had no doubt that some part of him does. She frowned. She hated how he closed himself up when it came to talking about his family, because it left her with no way to deal with his ever increasing mood swings. The opportunity to find out more about his family was at his feet, and yet he had to be forced to even enter a house he was giving away!

Giving away a family mansion! Honestly!

"You know," she finally said, once again breaking Harry's trance. "We care about you, Ron and I."

Harry looked at her, thoroughly confused.

"Of course I know, 'Mione. Why would I think otherwise?" he asked. Hermione jerked her head towards Ron. He had a huge grin on his face, red tips on his ears, and his arms carefully wrapped around Jane Bennet's waist. "Ron's finally taking control of his life. He hasn't done a productive thing since… everything."

Harry hung his head at the mention of the war. Hermione sighed, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You, on the other hand, have been moping for far too long. Us? The people who care about you? We worry. A lot." She set down her empty cup, and turned to face him again. "I'm not ordering you to do anything, or nag at you. Merlin knows I've done enough of that over the years. But I want to remind you that we're around, and we always will."

Harry released a sigh, or perhaps a breath he was unconsciously holding in. Hermione smiled, and took his hand in hers.

"So, Mr. Party Pooper – can I have this dance?"

Harry grinned, and relented.

* * *

The Merryton Summer Dance is usually a small affair. It was, after all, a small town, and the people you meet at the Dance are all familiar faces. That was, until, the Famous Visitors arrived this Summer.

Eliza snorted. She was standing by the duck pond of Merryton Park, where the Dance is usually held, holding a plastic cup of punch, and watching people dance in the makeshift dancefloor made of tarp, many yards of fairylights, and handmade decorations by the Merryton Women's Club. She was having fun when she first arrived, dancing with her friends from school. It was one of those annoying, old fashioned, dances where they did various local dances that required partners, and since they had a shortage of boys, like they always do every year, she sometimes had to sit out. Jane always accompanied her when there was a shortage, though.

It was when the Famous Visitors arrived, that Eliza's whole night started to go downhill. Ron Weasley had approached Jane for a dance, looking really pleased but nervous, but since Eliza had no partner, Jane had threatened to decline. Eliza had insisted she danced, of course. However, Ron insisted on introducing his friend, the famous Boy-Who-Lived-Turned-Chosen-One, to be her partner, which Eliza finally agreed to. But when the great Harry Potter was introduced to her, he had declined to dance and stalked off to sulk somewhere, leaving Eliza thoroughly humiliated. The nerve of the man! Because of this incident, Eliza had grown increasingly conscious of his prescence, watching him as he sulked by the refreshments, only leaving to dance with either Hermione Granger, or Ron Weasley's sister, Ginny. And the more she watched, the more it irked her that the most famous boy in the world, the Boy-Who-Lived that she had grown up listening to wonderful stories about, would turn out to be the most disagreeable and anti-social person she had ever met.

More disagreeable, she thought, than Old Man Johnson, who spends such dances getting drunk and groping women he dances with. And that was saying a lot.

She was glad, at least, for the presence of Charlotte, who had arrived late, and immediately ran to Eliza with the latest gossip.

"My goodness, this Harry Potter's making a horrible name for himself. Only a quarter of the people here knows who he _actually_ is, and yet everyone already knows him as 'That Sulky Man'. Apparently Mildred Long overhead him saying to that Ginny Weasley that the decorations were tacky! Now the whole Women's Club is against him."

Eliza laughed. At least, she thought, she wasn't alone in her judgment. She immediately told Charlotte of what happened with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, and Charlotte was immediately indignant.

"How rude!" she declared. Eliza could see that she was already prepared to spread this story to everyone, and ruin Potter's reputation in the town. "But Weasley and your sister sure seem to be having a good time. They've been dancing every dance since he arrived. Everyone's noticed."

Eliza cringed. She snuck a peak at her mother, who was sitting at a nearby Gazebo with the Women's Club, fanning themselves and sipping cool tea. It was at once obvious that she was bragging about Jane, and looked as pleased as she could manage to be in public.

"Hey, Lizzie!" one of the girls from her class called and waved her over. Eliza barely knew her, but she knew her last name was Watson. Eliza waved back, excused herself from Charlotte, and approached the group of girls she was with. It was only when she came closer that she realized that she was in the company of Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.

"Oh, have you all met?" the girl exclaimed. Hermione nodded, and explained how they had met at the candy store, and the hilarious incident that happened.

"I hope your father was alright after," she asked Eliza, politely. Eliza nodded.

"I patched him up alright. He was very grateful for the package Mr. Weasley sent over, though."

The girl giggled. "You're always so formal, Lizzie! Calling him Mr. Weasley. His name is Ron, and I'm sure you'll be very well acquainted once he starts going out with your sister. I mean look at them!" She gestured to the couple, who had stopped dancing, and were now standing by, talking. "Isn't it cute!"

Eliza smiled. It was really adorable, even if it made her mother too happy for her liking. However, she noticed that Ron's sister, Ginny, didn't look too happy. She looked more like she was glaring at the back of Ron's head, which was very bizarre.

"Well, I'm glad that Ron met someone he likes, before he moves in," Granger said, smiling genuinely. Eliza immediately took a liking to her. "So, he's bought Richmond already?"

"Actually, he already owns it," she said. "The house was previously owned by Harry, and he gave it to Ron for his eighteenth birthday."

"Wow, talk about a great birthday present!" the girl giggled. "A mansion! Daddy won't even buy me a car." She giggled again. Eliza closed her eyes in agony. She suddenly remembered why she didn't bother to get to know Watson's first name. She was also appalled by Harry Potter. The idea of an eighteen-year-old boy giving away a mansion put a bad taste in her mouth. It was as if he was flaunting his wealth to people who could barely afford one house, let alone a huge country mansion! The mystery of the owner of Richmond Hall was now solved, and it made Eliza wished it wasn't.

Hermione and Ginny then excused themselves, and quickly found partners to dance with. Watson, however, continued to chat about some lemon squares that her mother had made for the dance, and general gossip from town. Eliza, however, found herself drifting to angry thoughts about Potter, who was standing not so far away from her. It was such a shame, considering he had such a great reputation. He had done great things, and he was probably considered a hero, but his behavior at the party was appalling.

"See ya, Lizzie!" the girl said. Eliza blinked. She hadn't realized that she had zoned out, though it wasn't surprising considering the way Watson had gone on. She watched the girl wandered off to find her next victim, as she herself leaned on the refreshment table, while helping herself to the aforementioned lemon squares (which were actually not half bad). Charlotte was at the Gazebo now, chatting with the Women's Club, and Eliza didn't think much of going anywhere near her mother.

It was then that she heard the most appalling conversation, that fully cemented her impression of Potter.

"Harry! I heard you were here sulking. Why aren't you talking to any of the pretty girls around here?" Weasley looked giddy with glee, and his ears seemed permanently red. "Its such an amazing town, don't you think?"

"Only because you spent the whole night dancing with the most beautiful girl in town," Potter said, laughing. His laugh sounded labored though, and Eliza frowned at this. "Why are you even bothering me when you could be there with her?"

"Because you're my mate!" Ron barked, and slugged an arm around his shoulder. "And there are plenty of pretty girls here! I mean, Jane's sister was quite pretty too, why didn't you dance with her?"

"She was okay, but too plain for my tastes," Potter said. Weasley gave him a stern look. "Believe me, she's more Seamus' type than mine."

Weasley laughed again. "Harry, anything with boobs is Seamus' type. That's horrible!"

Harry smiled. "Anyway, you shouldn't be bothered by me. I'm thinking of heading back. I want to settle some stuff."

"Leave?" Weasley sounded appalled. "But its still early!"

Harry gave Ron a direct look in the eyes. "I really have to settle this stuff, Ron."

Ron kept quiet for a moment. Eliza swallowed. What was so important that Potter couldn't leave it to wait until morning? She quickly turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with her lemon square.

Finally, Ron gave a sigh.

"Do what you have to do, mate," he said, patting him on the back. "I'll see you back at the Hotel." Eliza watched as Harry walked past her, and headed directly towards a dark area in some bushes ahead. Barely noticeable, she watching him take out a wand, with a soft crack, disappeared.

She thought back to the conversation she had just eavesdropped on, and fumed. Too plain? Anything with boobs? Of all the crass, rude, horrible things to say. In her mind, she called him all the nastiest, rudest things that she could think of that would make Jane blush and her mother faint. She didn't care if Charlotte was with her mother; she had to talk to her immediately.

She made her way across towards the Gazebo, only to find that Charlotte was not there with the ladies. Wandering around the floor, she finally found her, talking to her mother, and a tall young man. Behind them, Kitty and Lydia are watching the man, and giggling happily. Composing herself, Eliza approached the group.

"Ah, Lizzie!" Mrs Lucas called. "I was wondering where you were! My guest for the summer just arrived. I'm sure you remember me mentioning him."

Honestly, Eliza didn't. She wished she had, though. The young man was quite handsome. He was dressed in a smart white shirt, and some very flattering khaki pants. His eyes were a strange shade of grey, and she knew immediately that he was a wizard from the way Mrs. Lucas grinned. She smiled, and shook his hand. "Eliza Bennet, nice to meet you," she said politely. The young man smiled, pushing a bit of his blond hair away from his eyes, before looking her straight in the eye.

"Draco Malfoy," he said. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

With a crack, Harry appeared in the dark, empty entrance hall of Richmond Hall. He lit his wand silently, and approached the small, worn tapestry that hung in the corner, his footsteps echoing in the large, empty house. Lightly waking the old man up, he conjured up a chair, and sat down before him. The old man smiled warmly, sitting straighter by his desk.

"I'm sorry about your friends, Harry," he said. "I didn't get to explain that this tapestry was enchanted to interact only to members of the Potter family. You see, I'm kind of the entrance to the private vault that keeps all the Potter Heirlooms. The house was just a ruse to hide this vault."

"Its alright," Harry said. "I didn't mind."

The old man frowned, bemused. "And you're not going to ask how to get into this vault?"

"Not yet," Harry replied. "I have more important things to do at the moment." He drew his chair closer to the tapestry, and adjusted himself. He then looked up, and met the old man in the eye, the same eyes that had sparkled brightly when Harry first learnt to say "Papa." This man that had bounced him on his lap, and sung the Hogwarts School Song to him when he was a baby. Harry smiled the most genuine smile he had for the first time in a very long time.

"I want to learn more about you, Grandfather."

* * *

Author's Note:

In case none of you got that, Harry was name after his Grandfather, similarly named Harry Potter. I hope you enjoyed the dance scene. I got all the names of the characters from Pride and Prejudice, so they 'genuinely' were from Meryton.

I also hope you weren't put off by the change of perspective of Eliza. Future scenes will be written in third-person, and previous chapters will be changed when I get the chance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Enters Draco Malfoy, the problem with Richmond, and Charlotte tells it like it is._

* * *

"Draco Malfoy?" I sputtered. The Malfoys had a reputation, or so I've heard. Their involvement in the war was so wooly, that as far as I've learnt, had ended up in them fleeing overseas. Mrs. Lucas had warned that he would be staying for the summer, and I had imagined him to be more worn and dark-looking. Yet, I hadn't expected the Malfoy heir to be so… chiseled. With such fantastic cheekbones…

"Eliza Bennet," he said smoothly, and I flushed, embarrassed. He took my hand and gently kissed it, and I bowed, suddenly aware of the many eyes of the Women's Club on us.

"It's nice to finally meet you," I said, composing myself. And he gave a brilliant smile – I struggled to stay poised.

"As I said before, Eliza," Mrs Lucas said, abruptly. "He'll be staying for the summer. I was hoping that you'd be able to bring him around Merryton, introduce him to some people your age. That… won't be a problem, would it?"

"Of course not! Lizzie would LOVE to show Mr. Malfoy around!" My mother butted in, and followed with the most high-pitched giggle, sounding like a cross between a hyena and a blast-end skrewt. I flushed, and looked at him with an apologetic look. Taking that as a queue, he coughed.

"I'm quite parched," he coughed again, and looked directly at me. "Perhaps you could accompany me to the punch bowl?"

I nodded, speechless, and directed him away from the group of tittering women, and far, far away from my mother. When we had made our way across the dance floor, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's okay," he said. "I understand how mothers can get."

"I hope in Merlin's name that your mother's nothing like mine," I laughed. He gave a sheepish smile, and looked down at his feet while he walked.

"She can be, at times," he said. "But I love her as she is."

I flushed again, shocked by the sudden intimacy of the moment, and overcome by this show of tenderness. Draco Malfoy was nothing like I had imagined him, and it was difficult to believe that he had been a… you-know-what.

"Wow, she must be quite an amazing woman," I offered, and was immediately rewarded with a small smile.

"Well, you can say that she's taken many risks for me," he said. "But I won't be seeing her for awhile. Punch?"

We had reached the refreshments table by this time, but paused in front of the punch bowl, and I did not realized I stopped until he held a glass for me, topped with a lemon slice. I smiled, and took the glass, and took a deep gulp, taking the moment to look about for familiar faces. Jane was busy dancing with Weasley, Charlotte was talking to Lydia and Kitty, and my school friends were scattered about the floor, engaging in usual party antics. Aside from Mary Rickman, who was in a corner, engaged in a terrifyingly thick book.

"So what brings you to Merryton?" I asked. "I mean, we don't get many visitors usually."

"Oh," he said, "I'm here with the rest of the Drumstrang students, actually."

"Drumstrang?" I frowned. Merryton was a small and very quiet town. Why students would want to come here from Bulgaria was beyond me.

"Yeah. One of them has a country house not far from the town, and the 7th year boys are taking the opportunity to come here and vacation. My cousin's cousin happens to be one of the group, and he asked me along, kind of as an immersion trip, to get to know everyone. I just transferred there from Hogwarts, you see."

"That is quite brave of you," I said. "Not many people are quite as sociable to attempt this sort of an immersion programme."

"Well, Merryton isn't so hard to get used to, really."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, there's this charm to it. It could be the town itself… or perhaps the people?" He smirks at me, and I can't help but smile.

"Oh," I said. "It must be the town! We take pride in our charming architecture, you know." I smirk back, and he catches it, laughing.

"I think its definitely the people."

We share a smile together, and I begin to notice how white his teeth are. Perhaps people shouldn't listen too much to all this gossip. In my book, Draco Malfoy was fine. Very fine.

"I think Mrs. Lucas is calling me."

I break out of my stupor, and turn to see Mrs. Lucas waving frantically with a hankerchief in her hand. I laugh.

"I believe a lady is requesting your presence," I teased. He smiles, and bows dramatically.

"I hope to see you again soon, Eliza Bennet." He says. I dramatically curtsey.

"Likewise."

And we both grinned.

* * *

"Harry…?" Ron called, as he peeked his head into the large hall of Richmond. He glanced around the room, taking in for the first time the large marbled interior of Richmond Hall, grand and imposing and spectacular. He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding, but dared not to move from his spot at the entrance.

"Harry, are you there?" He called again. Harry had to be there, from the fact that Ron had been allowed into the house at all. But feeling quite out of place, and intrusive, he stood rooted. "I came to check up on you."

A rustle echoed through, and the sound of a chair squeaking against the floor, before quick and hurried footsteps rushed through. Harry, flushed with excitement and embarrassment, crossed the entrance hall from… where did he come from?

"Ron!" he breathed. "Are you alone?"

Ron frowned at the strange question, and nodded. He scrutinized Harry's appearance. He was still in the outfit he had left the party in, and looked about the same as when he left Merryton Park in a hurry, except - a gleam in his eye. Something he had not seen since before the war.

"Are you alright, mate?" He asked. "You look a little… different."

Harry looked bristled, as if he had not expected Ron's perceptiveness. Then he grinned.

"I'm going to tell you something," he said, as he made his way to the door behind him, and shut it. Immediately, the aura of the house changed, feeling more comforting and enclosed. The wards had gone up. "I trust you, Ron. You cannot tell anyone. Even Ginny."

"Sure, whatever you say," Ron offered. The two men crossed the entrance hall, and as he approached the stairs, he suddenly noticed a corner behind it that he had not been able to see before. A chair was set before a portrait of an old man, who smiled.

"Hello!" he said. "You must be a good friend of Harry's."

Ron, stunned, managed a short bow. "Yes sir, my name is Ronald Weasley."

"Well it's nice to meet you, Mr. Weasley," He said. "My name is Harold Potter the Second. My grandson here tells me that you are to be the new owner of Richmond."

"Yes sir," he said, his ears reddening slightly. "I hope that is okay."

"Ah…" he sighed. "You see, there is a problem with that. Not that," he quickly added, seeing the stunned look on Ron's face. "Not that I don't like you. You are, as I can see, a very agreeable young man."

"Thank you… sir…" Ron said, puzzled. Harry conjured a chair, and gestured for Ron to sit, which he did willingly.

"You see, Ron," he said. "This house is the only entrance to a vault of family heirlooms."

"Heirlooms?" Ron sputtered. He frowned in thought for a moment, before raising his head to Harry, and asked, "How many, exactly?"

"Oh, thousands!" The portrait proclaimed in great pride. "This house was build just as the entrance heirlooms, you see! It was the perfect ruse for greedy money-grubbers. Centuries of every Potter's prized possessions, every accomplishment recorded in the magnificent Potter vault! You'll never see a similar collection like this, never!" He smiled, his moustache bristling outward in joy. "I've contributed to it myself, you know."

"It'll take me a while to go through all the things, Ron. You can have the house, of course. Its virtually never been lived in. But the things… well…"

Ron gaped.

"Of… of course, Harry. I understand!" Ron frowned. "I mean, I don't need the house, you know. Especially when its so important…"

"Oh, no boy! The house itself is not the problem!" The portrait said. "Let me explain this. The vault itself is in a location far from here. Where it is, which I can't say, is unreachable. Which is why we needed an entrance! It was built by my great great great great grandfather who built this magnificent place with… well I can't tell you how but…"

"Grandfather?" Harry asked. The portrait looked, and seemed sheepish.

"Sorry, sorry, getting ahead of myself." He cleared his throat, and continued. "The entrance is the only link to the vault. It was a security measure at the time of the Hogwarts founders, when my ancestor made many mistakes, and many enemies who were after very important possessions. He made the vault, and built this house to hide the entrance. The enemies stormed Potter Manor, broke into all our safe-houses, and found nothing, not knowing that Richmond Hall, sitting in the middle of a muggle settlement, even existed. Of course, I was created by my son, about twenty years ago when he inherited this place, and changed the portrait. But it was no problem keying the Olde Magicks from the old portrait to this one, since that portrait was placed in the same location, here!"

"The problem," Harry continued. "Is that once we signed that contract, the Olde Magicks put in place here began to fade. I effectively have a month left before I lose access to the Potter Vault altogether."

Ron let out a breath. This was beyond anything he could have imagined. He looked at Harry, and saw him confused and frazzled, his grandfather's portrait looking the same. Ron opened his mouth, attempting to form words that could seem encouraging, or useful, or something substantial at least. But he could only utter one word.

"Blimey."

His head swam thick with thoughts. He could faintly hear Harry sit down next to him, and Harold Senior's whiskers bristle slightly, but in his mind he weighed the magnitude of this problem. Could this have been avoided if he had rejected the house? If Harry had bothered to visit the house before the papers were signed? What of the other Potter estates, left to collect dust across the country – what secrets did they hold?

Ron sighed. He knew what he had to do. The problem was, he knew the consequences of it too.

"Harry," he said. Harry lifted his head, and met Ron dead in the eyes. "You know we're going to have to tell Hermione."

Harry audibly swallowed. Both boys could their dearest friend's voice in their head loud and shrill and clear. "I know."

"And you know what she's going to say."

"I know."

"Well then," Ron said, offering a pitying smile. "Whenever you're ready."

* * *

As much as I enjoy classes with Mrs. Lucas, I have to admit that she brings the worst out of my mother at times. And its not just the strange mixture of conspiracy and gossip that comes up between two equally nosey women. It's the competitiveness between them. And for a woman like my mother, who is a homebody of the first degree, it usually involves us – the unfortunate daughters.

"Well, Charlotte," she said, when the Lucases came over to visit. I had attempted to drag Charlotte up the stairs the moment she walked into our house, but my mother had somehow slipped in front of the staircase when she was at the door a second ago. For a woman who groans of aching this and failing that, she moves quite fast when she wants to. "Well, Charlotte! I heard you danced with Weasley last night! That must have been exciting."

"Well, yes." Charlotte said, slipping a glance at me. I shrugged apologetically. "But I think he preferred spending his time talking to Jane."

"Oh, really?" My mother, gasped theatrically. I rolled my eyes, to no one's notice. "Well, I guess they did get along quite well. He seemed to enjoy himself in her company - but I can't be too sure of course – I did hear something about it though, but I can't remember what. Something about Mr. Robinson, I think."

Mr. Robinson is our town mayor. He's a nice man overall, but can be quite nosey and a bit of a perve when he wants to. His favourite past times at these events is to chat up the 'young folk' and find out about their love lives, as if he wanted to live vicariously through us. To my mother, therefore, it made him a rich source of information about young, single, and eligible men in our town.

"Oh, you meant what I overheard from Mr. Robinson's conversation with Weasley?" Charlotte said, more animated than usual. I really appreciate her ability to put up with my mother. I certainly can't do it. "Yeah, he was asking Weasley whether he was enjoying himself at the Dance, and asked if he found any of the Merryton girls attractive. He instantly said, "Yes, definitely. In fact, have you seen Jane Bennet around?" "

My mother seemed to burst with pride and joy, yet continued this tirade.

"Oh, did you hear that, Susanne!" she said, turning to Mrs. Lucas with a grin. Mrs. Lucas looked annoyed (for a very good reason), but said nothing. "But it may not come to anything, of course. Better not keep my hopes up!" My mother trilled.

"It is good then," Mrs. Lucas finally said. "That Jane's luck is better than Eliza's! Poor thing, to be too plain for the illustrious Harry Potter! It is a shame." She gave my mother a smug look, who now wore the same annoyed look Mrs. Lucas had a moment ago. I looked at charlotte, who shrugged defeatedly.

"Oh, who would want to socialize with that horrible man! Sulky and so ungracious. And commenting badly on our decorations, when we had put weeks of work into making them ourselves! Poor Mildred, she was beside herself the entire night. "

"Of course she would be, she was, after all, in charge of décor!" Mrs. Lucas said. "Oh, and you would not believe what her daughter was up to last night. I heard that…"

Taking the opportunity of my mother's wavered attention, I quickly dragged Charlotte up to my room, shut the door, and cast a Muffliato charm onto the door. Jane was sitting crossed legged on her bed, as I had left her – but instead of flipping pages in her textbook, she was happily stroking the feathers a beautiful snowy owl with one hand, and writing a note with the other. By her side, I noticed, a opened envelope with a thick bit of parchment in it.

"Mr. Number Two sent something?" I offered, and was rewarded with a smile. She nodded.

"He is so polite and sweet to send a letter. He asked if I reached home alright, and said that he liked the music they played at the dance last night."

"That muggle pop music? Really?" Charlotte asked. She had heard quite a bit from Lydia's radio, but as any pureblood witch, found it difficult to enjoy. It was, as she put it, too 'beepy'. I'm still not quite sure what that means.

"Yeah! He can be quite open-minded." She smiled to herself. "He asked me out for lunch tomorrow."

"And?" I asked. "Please tell me you're going!"

"I can't, I have Judo training tomorrow. I'm writing him to see if he can make it for dinner instead."

I grinned at her teasingly, and she blushed, avoiding eye contact with me as she brings the snowy owl to the window to let her fly out with her finished note. Satisfied, she walks out of the room to look for something to eat (that appetite!).

"I hope Jane doesn't give him the wrong impression." Charlotte said, the moment Jane leaves the room. I look at her, puzzled.

"What do you mean? Jane's really into him, and him to her."

"Yeah," Charlotte says, and calculates her words before she speaks. "But she has a tendency of being quite reserved. I mean remember Michael O'Neilly? The thing between him and Jane was definitely mutual, but he lost interest and went for Tiffany Watsons instead. I'm sure Ronald Weasley is going to get tons of female attention. If Jane doesn't reciprocate the same amount of attention Ronald gives her, he's going to misunderstand and may divert his attention elsewhere."

"Well, O'Neilly was an idiot, and if Weasley is a better guy, and is really interested in Jane, he'd stay around no matter what. Jane isn't a big showy type of person, it's not like her to throw herself on guys when she likes them. She's classier than that!"

"Well, he seems pretty thick to me. Classy may not work as well as obvious affection if he doesn't even know she's interested. I'm not saying she should throw herself around, just make a point to make sure he knows. After that, I'm sure everything will go well, and they'll ride off into the sunset in a flying car or something."

I laughed, the ridiculous idea of Jane and Ronald Weasley sitting in a car flying over grassy hills and smiling goofy smiles at each other was too much to bear.

"You say that now, Char, but I doubt you'd take your own advice. The day I see you batting your eyelashes and giggling like a madwoman to any guy you're interested in, I'm eating a slug."


End file.
